THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


t 


WASHINGTON, 


• 

AND 


OTHER  POEMS 


BY    CYNTHIA    BULLOCK. 


A    GRADUATE    OF    THE 


NEW  YORK  INSTITUTION  FOR  THE  BLIND. 


"  A  brief  si;aee  more  of  sorrow  here  below, 
Thy  pain  shall  turn  to  joy,  thou  child  of  wo  ; 
Thy  heart  find  rest, — thy  darkness  clenr  away ,- 
And  night  be  changed  to  everlasting  day  !" 


NEW  YORK : 

PUBLISHED  FOR  THE  AUTHOR. 
1847. 


Entered  March  £9,  1847,  accordiug  to  Act  of  Congress, 

BY     CYNTHIA     BULLOCK, 

lu  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  Southern  District  Court  of  the  State 
of  New  York. 


Reed  &.  Cunningham,  Printers, 
No.  9  Spruce-st.,  N.  Y. 


/m 


TO 


THE  PRESENT  AND  PAST 

MANAGERS,  OFFICERS  AND  TEACHERS 


Wcto^Yorfc  institution  for  tfje  38Iin», 
To  whom  I  owe  so  much, 

THIS     LITTLE     VOLUME 

is  gratefully  and 

affectionately  inscribed 

CYNTHIA  BULLOCK. 

Marc/i,  1847. 


623827 


vi  PREFACE. 

rnestic  character, — destitute  of  those  thrilling  occur 
rences, — those  romantic  events  which  the  seeing  are 
able  to  seize  upon,  and  elaborate  for  the  general 
reader. 

Most  of  the  pieces  are  the  offerings  of  friendship, 
elicited  by  the  kindness  of  those  about  her  ;  they  are 
full  of  deep  feeling, — the  overflowings  of  a  warm 
and  gentle  spirit, — and  are  pervaded  in  every  line  by 
the  presence  of  an  abiding  and  innate  piety. 

These  circumstances  must  disarm  severe  criticism  ; 
it  is  even  hoped  that  the  reader  may  find  in  the  volume 
something  to  commend,  and  that  he  will  rise  from  its 
perusal  convinced  that  education  may  do  much  to 
meliorate  the  condition,  and  elevate  the  character, 
even  of  the  blind:  that  crushing  as  such  an  infliction 
ever  must  he,  it  may  nevertheless  be  rendered  by  in 
tellectual  culture,  and  the  aid  of  religion,  not  only 
endurable,  but  its  unfortunate  subjects  made  cheerful, 
contented  and  uncomplaining ;  capable  of  appreci 
ating,  and  grateful  for  the  many  other  enjoyments 
which  a  beneficent  Providence  scatters  along  the 
pathway  of  their  dark' journey  through  life. 

N.  Y.  Institution  for  the  Blind,  > 
March  31, 1847.  $ 


CONTENTS. 

Dedication 3 

Preface 5 

Washington 9 

To  Catharine 21 

To  Miss  J.  c***** 23 

ToH.  M 25 

On  Temperance 27 

New-Year's  Address 29 

To  Rev.  Foster  Thayer 30 

Excellence  of  Prayer 32 

Renunciation  of  the  World 34 

To  the  Managers 36 

To  a  Friend 38 

To  Miss  E.  Adams 39 

On  the  Death  of  Mr.  Peter  A.  Schermerhorn 41 

Address  to  the  New- York  Legislatu  re 44 

New- Year's  Address,  to  Mr.  S.J 47 

To  the  Rev.  Mr.  Brandegee 48 

Happy  Thoughts 50 

Dedicated  to  Miss  Richardson 52 


Friendship 54 

New-Year's  Address,  to  the  Board  of  Managers. 55 

Lines,  composed  for,  and  recited  at  a  Donation  Party.. 57 

Written  in  a  moment  of  sadness ....60 

To  my  Mother  in  Heaven 62 

To  my  Flowers,  on  seeing  them  nipped  by  the  frost..  .64 

On  the  death  of  an  Infant ...67 

Lines,  on  receiving  a  Cactus  from  a  former  Teacher... 70 

Dialogue,  Poet  and  Musician ....71 

On  the  Death  of  Rev.  Dr.  Milnor 74 

To  my  Flowers 78 

To  a  Friend,  with  a  Violet 80 

Pensive  Thoughts 82 

To  a  Friend 84 

My  Mother's  Voice 87 

Faith 89 

Lines,  written  for  an  Album 91 

To  Miss  Anna  Smith 93 

Rest  on  the  Rock 95 

To  Mrs.  W.,  on  her  Birth-Day 97 

To  Dr.  Clements 93 

Lines  written  on  board  the  Knickerbocker 100 

Th e  O rp ban 1 02 

To  Mrs .  Holsman 104 

The  Ladies'  Sewing  Society 107 


LINES 


SUGGESTED  BY   RECEIVING   A   PEBBLE   FROM   THE    TOMB 
OF    WASHINGTON. 

How  valueless  soe'er  another  deem 
These  voiceless  things,  to  me  they  precious  seem; 
They  lay  unconscious  near  that  burning  light, 
Who  shone  in  virtue's  catalogue  most  bright. 
Oh,  Washington !   our  country's  dearest  name  ! 
Embalmed  in  every  heart  his  deathless  fame  ; 
Was  he  beloved — his  piety  how  rare — 
And  valor,  justice,  mercy,  all  dwelt  there. 
What  holy  raptures  must  the  soul  illume, 
Where  clustering  virtues  pour  such  rich  perfume  ? 
Laurels  so  pure,  so  nobly,  justly  won, 
Become  thy  brow,  our  father,  Washington ! 

Then  why  will  man,  image  of  God  most  high, 
His  matchless  pow'rs  so  waste,  so  misapply  ? 
Why  will  he  leave  for  toys,  truth's  fadeless  light? 
Why  chase  a  phantom  when  the  goal's  in  sight  ? 
In  shadowy  distance  far  the  bubble  floats, 
Pencill'd  in  view  appear  youth's  roseate  hopes, 
Infatuate,  forgetful  of  the  soul's  deep  spring, 
Innate,  a  pure,  imperishable  thing. 


10 

The  all  creative  energies  of  mind, 
Were  formed  to  charm  and  edify  mankind. 
How  oft  in  pathless  labyrinths  and  dark, 
Perplexing  fears  have  rack'd  his  noble  heart ; 
A  whirlpool  frowning  with  a  threat'ning  air, 
And  ruin  gap'd  to  plunge  his  people  there  ; 
Hope  gleamed  but  with  a  momentary  ray, 
Then  smiling  passed  in  murky  clouds  away. 

Though  treachery  pierce,  and  lay  his  soul  in  dust, 
Still  in  the  Rock  of  Ages  firm  his  trust; 
Dauntless  he  stood,  while  agonies  unknown,' 
Oppressed  his  heart  with  burdens  not  its  own  : 
That  faithful  hand  on  war's  tempestuous  tide, 
Dearer  than  life,  a  nation's  honor  guide. 
In  faith  he  sought  the  lonely  forest  shade, 
Harmonious  nature  tuneful  concert  made  : 
In  that  dim  solitude,  with  stricken  brow, 
In  humble  prayer,  I  seem  to  see  him  now  ; 
There,  as  he  wept,  he  lay  in  accents  meet, 
A  nation's  sufferings  at  his  Father's  feet; 
In  faith  renewed,  while  promised  mercies  shine, 
Tranquil  he  leaves  the  consecrated  shrine  ; 
Then  shone  the  hero  glorious,  most  diviuef 
In  courage  first,  in  moral  strength  sublime. 

Ah  !  let  Ambition  of  her  chieftains  boast, 
Devotion's  fire  refines,  ennobles  most. 


WASHINGTON. 

Too  bitterly  mankind,  in  every  age, 
Have  sacrific'd  to  Fame's  insatiate  rage ; 
Millions  have  bled,  that  war,  in  triumph  high, 
.Might  stamp  a  name  with  immortality, 
Rear  monuments  with  matchless  skill  and  art ; 
E'en  genius  stoops  a  tribute  to  impart, 
As  if  in  mockery  of  the  widow's  sighs, 
The  orphan's  tears,  that  pierce  the  eternal  skies; 
They  pour  pernicious  flatteries  in  his  ear, 
Striving  from  dark  to  make  the  light  appear; 
As  well  might  light  from  buried  waters  spring, 
Or  desert  sands  beams  of  blest  knowledge  fling  : 
Though  cunning  be  their  sophistry,  their  skill, 
The  dark  is  dark,  the  light  is  glorious  still. 
Mercy,  arrayed  in  seraph  radiance  fair, 
Wept  o'er  the  scene,  and  fondly  linger'd  there  ; 
She  to  the  broken  heart,  as  angel  dove, 
Echo'd  sweet  music  from  the  land  of  love, 
Then  waved  adieu,  impatient  sped  her  way 
Forth  to  the  mercy  seat,  to  praise  and  pray ; 
Yet  folds  her  wings,  and  with  propitious  smile 
Pauses  to  bless  fair  Freedom's  favorite  child. 
He  taught  mankind  how  from  true  piety, 
Bravery  may  borrow  strength  for  victory. 
As  crested  billows  swell  in  awful  pride, 
Then  break  as  vapor  o'er  the  crystal  tide, 
So  must  Ambition's  proudest  fabrics  fall, 
If  love  be  not  the  vital  spring  of  all. 


12  WASHINGTON. 

In  the  still  air  e'en  now  I  hear  a  voice — 
Columbia's  sons  make  truth  a  nation's  choice ; 
Let  high-toned  feelings  in  your  bosoms  reign, 
And  prosp'rous  wealth  and  peace  attend  the  train. 
We  hail  the  light  transcendent  from  the  tomb, 
With  holy  rapture  quaff  the  rich  perfume  : 
Oh,  may  its  rays  enkindle  in  each  heart 
A  patriot's  fires,  and  nobler  aims  impart. 
Then  imitate,  ye  sons  of  Liberty, 
His  high  career,  so  fraught  with  victory, 
Yet  copy  well  his  faith,  resigned  and  pure, 
His  honest  purpose,  and  his  trust  secure. 

Oh,  Washington  !  our  country's  sire  !  we  bless 
Thy  name,  with  transports  words  may  not  express ; 
He  nursed  the  tree  whose  boughs  luxuriant  shower, 
Content  and  Peace  on  Freedom's  sunny  bower; 
A  beacon  light,  to  give  the  wandering  poor, 
A  refuge  here,  from  tyranny  secure  ; 
Around  its  rugged  trunk  the  tendrils  twine, 
Thy  people's  heart  as  in  one  soul  combine. 
'Twas  Freedom's  charm  by  ancient  poet  sung, 
O'er  Plato's  dreams  the  rays  of  magic  flung ; 
This  was  the  star,  that  with  celestial  light 
In  fancy  rose,  to  beautify  the  night ; 
Something  that  might  be,  yet  so  sweet  the  ray, 
It  seemed  of  heaven,  and  thither  sped  its  way. 


WASHINGTON.  13 

In  Roman  senate,  'raid  Palmyra's  flowers,  ' 
In  Sparta's  glory,  fair  Arcadia's  bowers, — 
This  was  the  charm  that  with  Promethean  fire, 
To  high-souled  raptures  tuned  the  dulcet  lyre  ; 
Above  its  tone  responsive  swells  each  mind, 
The  spirit  felt — seemed  half  the  distance  climb'd — 
They  see  through  fancy's  telescope  the  while, 
Tyrants  lay  prostrate,  and  fair  Freedom's  smile. 
When  Artaxerxes  rolled  the  mighty  car, 
Destructive  fire  and  desolating  war, 
While  trumpet  blast  gave  forth  the  horrid  sound, 
Threat'ning  to  crush  fair  Graecia  to  the  ground, 
While  naval  strength  and  countless  numbers  try 
To  root  from  earth  the  soul  of  liberty, 
What  nerved  with  supernatural  strength  to  stand, 
The  Grecian  youth,  with  flashing  steel  in  hand  ] 
His  countrymen  in  wild  confusion  bled, 
The  war-steed  prancing  o'er  the  fallen  dead, 
Singly  he  fights  till  pierced  at  every  pore, 
Then  sinks  the  hero  weltering  in  his  gore  : 
The  sacred  gem  implanted  in  the  heart, 
Their  death  but  kindled  to  a  lasting  spark. 
Here  shines  the  ray,  immaculate  and  bright, 
For  which  they  bled,  yet  knew  not  half  its  might ; 
Each  generous,  pure,  and  noble  act  of  man, 
Is  garnered  safe  by  God's  mysterious  plan ; 
Their  fruits  die  not,  as  fades  the  transient  gleam  ; 
Though  small  the  act,  though  trifling  it  may  seem, 
2* 


14  WASHINGTON. 

Good  is  Dot  lost,  hut  as  the  balmy  spring 

Disperses  fragrance  from  her  sunny  wing, 

Attunes  to  praise  and  humble  gratitude 

The  stricken  heart,  by  mercy's  stroke  subdued ; 

So  mercy  smiles  upon  our  dreamy  hours, 

Strews  o'er  each  pillow  Hope's  perennial  flowers, 

Joins  with  the  saints,  with  faith's  illumin'd  sight, 

To  guard  the  offspring  of  affliction's  night : 

Where'er  we  tread,  beatic  spirits  sweet, 

Like  faithful  sisters  guide  the  wandering  feet. 

Oh,  'tis  so  sweet  a  Father's  joy  to  prove, 

To  know  that  Father  is  a  God  of  love ; 

When  false  friends  wound,  and  life's  dread  dream  is 

o'er, 
If  flows  that  fount — the  spirit  needs  no  more. 

Too  long  I've  lingered  on  the  enchanted  ground, 
Where  amaranthine  flow'rs  their  sweets  shed  round  ; 
I'd  tear  myself  a  moment  from  this  scene, 
Where  hope  looked  wan,  and  life's  last  struggle  dim. 
When  Jesus  bade  the  fragments  gathered  be, 
Himself  the  King  of  all  immensity, 
A  twofold  lesson  taught.     Oh,  let  us  learn 
Trifles  so  small  we  may  not  lightly  spurn  : 
Then  let  us  try  precept,  example  too, 
To  follow,  Lord,  as  thou  would'st  have  us  do ; 
Darkened  by  sin  the  ends  we  may  not  see, 
We'll  do  the  right,  and  trust  the  fruits  to  Thee. 


WASHINGTON.  15 

That  germ  grew  high  on  Grsecia's  favored  soil, 

With  numerous  blessings  crowned  her  children's  toil, 

Her  laws,  philosophers,  unequall'd  shone, 

There  science  bloomed,  and  Freedom  all  her  own, 

Lighted  the  torch  that  with  enkindling  fires, 

For  death  or  glory  nerved  her  sons,  her  sires. 

Peopled  with  life  each  glade,  each  grove, 
While  Hope,  fair  sister  of  young  Love, 

Flew  through  the  rolling  spheres  : 
Thus  sped  the  hours  of  pleasure  gay, 
Till  tyrants  stole  the  gem  away, 

And  left  the  land  in  tears. 
As  when  on  ocean's  tranquil  breast, 
The  threat'ning  storm  bursts  from  the  west, 

No  skill  the  bark  may  save ; 
Thus  strove  Demosthenes  in  vain 
To  kindle  glory's  ardent  flame, 

Till  Grsecia  fell,  a  slave. 

Look  where  old  ocean's  surges  dash  the  shore, 
Whose  rock  bound  cliffs  with  crystal  mantled  o'er, 
Where  forests  tower,  and  beasts  carniv'rous  roam, 
And  artless  Nature  paints  the  red  man's  home  , 
See,  on  the  boisterous  bosom  of  the  deep, 
A  little  bark  its  course  unerring  keep  ; 
A  pilgrim  band  look  through  the  misty  air, 
While  joyful  voices  start  the  savage  ear. 


16  WASHINGTON. 

What  sought  they  there,  where  winter's  stem  array, 
la  snowy  vestments  clad  the  dreary  way  ? 
They  sought  the  charm  intrinsic  in  the  heart — 
At  Freedom's  call  man's  nobler  spirits  start. 

Hail !  hail !  thou  ray  ineffable  and  pure, 

While  grateful,  we  its  author,  God,  adore. 

Would  ye  transmit  to  children  yet  unborn 

This  blood-bought  gem,  offspring  of  Hope's  young 

morn  ? 

Then  point  them  to  your  sleeping  sires,  and  tell, 
How  dear  they  earned  the  gem  you  love  so  well. 
Titles  disdain  which. blind  the  would-be  wise, 
While  equal  rights  bid  honest  merit  rise  : 
Still  may  your  legislative  acts  proclaim 
Ye  patriots,  worthy  of  the  Christian  name  : 
Enlightened  views,  guided  by  wisdom's  hand, 
Make  brave  men  faithful,  and  a  happy  land ; 
Let  not  instruction's  powerful  engine  cease — 
No,  'tis  the  safe-guard  of  our  country's  peace  ; 
Reft  of  its  aid,  free  institutions  fall — 
It  is  the  great  sustaining  prop  of  all ; 
Should  not  the  captain,  on  the  starless  sea, 
Well  read  in  seaman's  law,  and  practised  be  ? 
Much  more  the  sovereign  people  here  require 
Knowledge,  to  steer  from  Sylla's  lurking  ire. 
With  earliest  development  of  mind 
Weave  virtue's  threads  around  the  yielding  vine; 


WASHINGTON.  17 

With  noble  aspirations  kindly  vow, 

To  stamp  the  patriot  on  the  infant's  brow, 

Still  with  the  progress  of  expanding  thought, 

Mingle  the  precepts  by  our  Saviour  taught; 

Teach  them  through  Nature's  beauteous  form  to  trace 

The  glowing  features  of  Omniscient  grace ; 

Yes,  in  the  schools,  where  playful  childhood  meet, 

Ere  time  can  deaden,  disappointment  sweep 

Those  dovelike  feelings  of  the  morning  hour, 

That  gush  like  dew-drops  on  the  tender  flower, 

There  be  religion  with  each  lesson  wove, 

Cheered  by  the  voice  of  fond  maternal  love, 

A  talisman  to  shield  from  vice  the  while, 

Will  thus  be  given,  clothed  with  ethereal  smile. 

There  is  a  spell,  that,  like  the  Circean  tone, 
Detained  Ulysses  from  his  boyhood's  home, 
Comes  o'er  the  soul  when  pictur'd  innocence 
As  once  we  felt,  gladdens  the  weary  sense — 
Man's  early  joys,  like  the  translucent  stream, 
That  gaily  dances  in  the  sunny  gleam, 
Ere  are  congealed  in  one  unyielding  mass, 
Those  crystal  drops  that  now  so  gently  pass. 
Such  is  the  heart  when  youthful  virtues  fair 
In  clustering  circles  greet  the  mother's  prayer, 
Alive  to  love,  and  mutual  sympathy, 
Each  thought  is  mirror'd  in  the  expressive  eye. 


18 


WASHINGTON. 


How  fair  seems  life,  with  fairy  beauty  strewn, 

While  Friendship  claims  each  gentle  one  her  own  ! 

Alas !  they  dream  not  in  those  golden  hours, 

That  sorrow  sleeps  imbosom'd  in  the  flowers; 

Oh,  while  the  heart  from  seraph  touch  above, 

Is  thus  attuned,  strengthen  the  cord  of  love, 

Let  moral  worth,  and  self-denial  shine, 

In  their  true  value,  paint  the  joys  of  time  ; 

Bid  them  contemn  the  heartless  flatterer's  sway, 

Let  conscience  guide,  and  God  approves  the  way : 

What  though  tempestuous  billows  rudely  foam, 

And  bleak  winds  tell  the  autumn  hour  hath  come, 

He  soars  above  the  yawning  gulf  of  ill — 

True  principles  allure  to  glory  still ; 

Torture  they  may  the  outward  man,  still  bright, 

The  mental  lamp  emits  a  sacred  light ; 

Custom  may  change,  ambition  freeze  the  heart, 

Its  depths  forget  their  treasures  to  impart, 

Lost  to  the  world,  in  deep  oblivion's  cell, 

There  sleeps  a  chord,  if  rightly  touched,  will  swell ; 

As  the  /Eoliau  harp  may  never  sing, 

Save  when  the  zephyr  wakes  the  trembling  string ; 

Oh,  then  how  soft,  how  plaintively  and  low, 

As  whispering  angels  seems  its  voice  to  flow. 


Thus  may  the  soul,  bending  its  tyrant  chains, 
If  rightly  touched,  wake  to  harmonious  strains. 


WASHINGTON.  19 

Then  be  it  yours  to  act  the  godlike  part, 
With  pearls  that  fade  not  early  deck  the  heart; 
Pray  that  your  sons,  who  sit  in  council,  be 
Discreet  in  wisdom,  honor,  piety  ; 
Propitious  then  our  father,  God,  will  prove, 
Flourish  we  shall,  the  objects  of  his  love  : 
Vain  might  a  people  unenlightened,  try, 
In  sovereign  rights,  with  you  in  strength  to  vie ; 
The  Constitution  we  so  prize,  adore, 
Would  be  as  diamonds  in  Brazilian  ore. 
Then  patriots,  rise,  your  sacred  rights  sustain, 
Let  rugged  freedom  o'er  each  spirit  reign  ; 
Improvement's  march,  with  intellectual  worth, 
Proclaim  you  worthy  of  a  freeman's  birth. 

Nursed  by  our  love,  vibrates  in  magic  tone, 
The  dear  remembrance  of  our  Washington  ! 
The  father,  hero,  patriot,  Christian,  friend, 
In  him  all  centre, — in  one  temple  blend. 

Spirit  Immortal,  on  celestial  wing 

From  light  descend,  thy  hallowed  influence  bring  ; 

Pervade  each  heart,  inspire  our  rulers,  too, 

To  emulate,  and  in  thy  steps  pursue ; 

Thy  virtues  shine  more  bright  through  time's  decay, 

They  borrow  lustre  from  its  passing  ray: 

The  world  admired,  and  God  pronounced  thee  blest, 

When  bravery  chose  religion  for  its  crest. 


20  WASHINGTON. 

Omnipotent,  our  King  supremely  bless, 
Who  clothed  creation  with  her  loveliness ; 
Genius  and  valor,  wealth  and  power  complete, 
Appear  most  brilliant  at  the  Saviour's  feet. 
If  these  be  offered,  priceless  wisdom  won, 
The  happy  choice,  you'll  ne'er  repent  when  done : 
We'll  weave  within  the  heart's  unfathomed  core 
Each  new  found  treasure  of  our  native  shore  ; 
We'll  not  forget  our  father,  God,  to  thee 
We  owe  these  blessings — peace  and  liberty. 
Affliction's  sons  around  her  altars  twine," 
To  shower  fresh  garlands  on  our  natal  shrine, 
Who  bade  ambition's  tempting  laurels  flee, 
And  sought  alone  her  children's  liberty. 

Then  hail  thee,  Washington !  thou  soul  of  truth, 
Our  country's  idol,  and  the  theme  of  youth, 
Words  are  inadequate,  and  feebly  speak 
How  thou  art  cherished  with  affection  deep  : 
This  pebble  mute,  that  bade  my  soul  transcribe 
The  happy  thoughts  that  from  its  sources  glide, 
While  Reason  smiles,  and  Hope's  bright  blossoms  be, 
And  dim  life  lasts,  shall  ye  be  dear  to  me  ; 
I've  tried  to  touch  an  angel's  thrilling  lay, — 
The  spirit  lives, — its  numbers  die  away. 


TO  CATHARINE. 

Sister,  the  world  is  not  so  drear 

As  we  have  fancied  long ; 
For  every  tear  there  is  a  smile, 

For  every  sigh  a  song. 

Sorrow  hath  never  swept  a  string, 
But'joy  that  measure  knew  ; 

For  every  wound  the  stricken  feel, 
Mercy  hath  healing  dew. 

When  all  in  aspect  gloomily 
Darkens  the  troubled  sight, 

Let 's  light  the  candle  of  the  soul, 
And  dissipate  the  night. 

Perchance  there  dwells,  in  its  recess, 
A  thought  that  should  not  be, 

Which  paints  what  else  were  beautiful 
In  hue  of  darkest  dye  : 

But  if  o'er  golden  prospects  bright 

Total  eclipse  be  cast, 
And  weary  life,  in  agony, 

Would  end  this  strife  at  last, 
3 


22  TO    CATHARINE. 

Look  up,  Look  up !  there  is  a  fount 
Whose  waters  never  fail ; 

Immortal  breezes  kindly  blow 
Comfort  in  every  gale. 

There,  may  thy  wounded  spirit  find 
Rescue  in  humble  prayer  ; 

Slander  may  pierce,  but  Jesus  loves  : 
Sister,  our  Father  's  there. 


TO  MISS  J.  C  *****. 

X" 

Oh,  bid  me  not,  sister,  the  soft  lute  awake, 

My  heartstrings   are    yielding,   are  bursting,    they 

break ; 

The  pitiless  blasts  of  adversity  blow, 
And  veil  ray  young  joys  in  the  winter  of  wo. 

Oh,  sister,  I  lov'd  you  so  fondly,  so  true, 
That  life  was  all  sunshine,  when  gladden'd  by  you ; 
From  bliss  so  exquisite,  I  wake  wretched,  forlorn, 
To  dream  of  the  flower,  but  gather  the  thorn. 

Oh,  happy  are  ye,  who  are  never  to  prove 

The  shaft  of  the  false  one,  the  slight  of  your  love ; 

Ye  may  smile  'mid  your  tears,  for  they  soon  cease  to 

flow, 
But  mine  find  no  respite,  no,  never,  no,  no. 

Go,  join  the  gay  throng,  they  are  waiting  for  thee. 
Be  blithesome,  sweet  sister,  yet  think  not  of  me  ; 
Let  me  linger  alone  in  this  quiet  retreat, 
My  sorrows  unbosom,  yes,  yes,  let  me  weep. 


24  TO  MISS  j.  c. 

Serenely  I'll  ireet  thee,  and  kiss  thy  dear  brow  ; 
May  the  bright  morn  behold  thee  as  playful  as  now. 
My  days  as  an  offering  to  God  shall  be  given, 
My  hopes,  my  affections,  are  laid  up  in  heaven. 


TO  H.  M., 

ON  THE  DEATH    OF  HER   HUSBAND,  WHO   WAS  BORN,  MAR 
RIED,  AND  DIED  ON  NEW-YEAR'S  DAY. 

The  New-Year's  morn  iu  splendor  breaks, 

Calls  Nature  to  rejoice  ; 
This  day  young  hearts,  with  rapture,  make, 

Above  the  rest,  their  choice. 

Oh.  'tis  a  mad,  a  mirthful  day, 

To  those  whom  sorrow  ne'er 
Came  like  a  hurricane,  to  dash 

Their  brightest  hopes  in  air. 

"  To  me  it  is  a  day  of  days — 

It  dawn'd  upon  his  birth, 
It  saw  me  wed  to  one  I  loved, 

It  saw  him  pass  from  earth. 

"Ah,  then,  blame  not  the  bitter  tears, 

That  stain  my  cheek  the  while  ; 
I  know  it  is  a  joyous  time  ; 

I  would,  but  cannot,  smile. 
3* 


26 


"  Fair  to  your  view,  may  every  star 
With  fadeless  beauty  shine ; 

'Tis  sweet  to  know  that  others  feel 
What  never  can  be  mine. 

"  Unseen,  save  by  a  Father's  eye, 

I'll  raise  a  feeble  prayer, 
Asking  assistance  from  on  high, 

The  blighting  stroke  to  bear. 

"  Then,  for  the  sake  of  those  I  love, 

I'll  cheerful  try  to  be, 
Suppress  the  sigh,  restrain  the  tear, 

And  smile  the  hours  away." 


ON  TEMPERANCE. 

Heard  ye  not  the  joyful  tidings, 

Far  along  the  breezes  borne  ? 
Back  the  glad  response  is  echoed, 

'Tis  the  dawn  of  Truth's  bright  morn. 

Hell's  own  child  is  banish'd  from  us, 
Broke  his  iron  chain  of  death  ; 

Fell  destroyer,  flee  thou  from  us, 
Truth  loves  not  thy  tainted  breath. 

Vainly,  now,  thou  peace-destroyer, 

Seek  thy  hated  life  to  save  ; 
See,  the  pledge  thy  power  hath  broken  ; 

Monster,  thou  hast  found  a  grave. 

Glad,  the  drunkard  hastes  to  leave  thee  : 
Welcome  heaven-born  peace  once  more  ; 

Hope  hath  tuned  his  soul  to  gladness, 
Sorrow's  death-like  night  is  o'er. 

See,  the  hearth-stone,  once  deserted, 
Bright  with  joyous  smiles  again ; 

Peace  and  plenty  smile  around  him, 
Children  bless  their  Father's  name 


28  ON    TKMPERANCE. 

Temperance,  thou  hast  well  accomplish'd 
All  thy  friends  had  hoped  for  thee; 

Future  bards  shall  tell  thy  story, 
Sing  the  wonders  wrought  by  thee. 


NEW-YEAR'S   ADDRESS, 

TO  OUR  FORMER  SUPERINTENDENT,  MR.  WM.  BOGGS. 

Our  hearts  with  joy  o'erflowing, 
Would  breathe  the  earnest  prayer, 

"  That  life's  most  holy  blessings 
May  crown  the  coming  year." 

Oh,  may  the  flowers  of  friendship 
Their  sweetness  o'er  thee  shed, 

And  fadeless  joys  celestial 
Be  showered  on  thy  head. 

Thus  would  we  live  to  bless  thee, 

Kind  teacher,  ever  dear, 
And  pray  that  heaven  would  take  thee 

To  a  purer,  brighter  sphere. 

While  joyous  we  are  singing, 

In  truthful  love  sincere, 
To  all  who  love  our  teacher, 

A  happy,  blithe  New-Year. 


TO  REV.  FOSTER  THAYER, 

On  his  bringing  to  the  Institution  the  Book  of  Common  Prayer, 
which,  through  his  benevolent  exertions,  had  been  printed 
in  embossed  character  for  the  Blind. 

Oh,  when  the  ethereal  breath  of  joy 
Steals  softly  through  the  heart, 

And  from  its  hidden  fountain  bids 

• 

The  light  of  gladness  start ; 

Ye  that  have  Avept  and  hoped  for  things 
Too  pure  for  earth,  it  seemed — 

So  beautiful  the  vision  shone — 
'Twas  but  a  golden  dream  ! 

Ye  who  have  felt  the  heartstrings  sing, 

With  rapturous  delight, 
As  in  resplendent  beauty  burst 

The  cherished  thing  of  light. 

Voice  of  our  Church,  thy  page  I  trace, 

Star  to  her  children  given, 
To  cheer  and  animate  their  zeal, 

And  speed  their  flight  to  heaven  : 


TO  REV.  FOSTER  THAYER.  31 

Engraven  on  her  people's  hearts, 

In  characters  of  love, 
Thy  truths  from  poisonous  heresies 

A  glorious  bulwark  prove. 

Thanks  for  the  precious  boon,  dear  friends, 

And  God,  who  loves  to  bless 
The  blind,  will  not  forget  to  owu 

This  work  of  righteousness. 

Ye  cannot  see  the  tear  of  joy 

Steal  down  the  grateful  cheek, 
Nor  read  the  heart's  deep  utterings — 

Language  may  never  speak. 

* 

Recorded  by  our  Father's  hand, 

They  stand  in  bright  array, 
And  ye  shall  reap  their  glorious  fruits 
earth  has  passed  away. 


EXCELLENCE  OF  PRAYER. 

'Tis  pleasant,  as  fadeth  the  red  light  away, 

And  the  hushed  voice  of  Nature  is  tranquil  and  low, 

At  the  footstool  of  mercy  repentant  to  pray — 

To  drink  from  that  spring,  whose  immaculate  flow 

Gives  health  to  the  spirit,  and  calmeth  the  breast, 

Makes  earth  seem  as    heaven,  and  heav'n  doubly 

blest. 

I 

The  sun  of  the  Christian,  his  anchor,  his  all, 
That  filleth  his  soul  with  the  incense  of  prayer, 
Though  the  measure  be  steeped  in  the  bitterest  gall, 
'Tis  sweet,  for  the  smile  of  his  Savior  is  there, 
And  angels  are  whispering — thy  trials  soon  o'er, 
Thy  wounds  shall  be  healed,  and  thine  eye  weep  no 
more. 

Though  death  from  his  bosom  the  fond  idol  tear, 
And  false  friends  deceive  but  to  laugh  at  his  pain, 
And  leave  him  forsaken  all  starless  and  drear, 
To  writhe  in  the  fetters  of  sorrow's  harsh  chain, 

There's  a  solace  in  heaven  to  dry  every  tear, 

A 
'Tis  the  music  of  hope,  'tis  the  fragrance  of  prayer. 


EXCELLENCE  OF  PRAYER.  33 

How  precious  the  Bible,  how  cheering  that  word, — 
Though  all  may  forget  thee,  I'll  never  forsake — 
How  it  vibrates,  harmoniously,  thrilling  each  chord  ; 
Though  high  the  rude  billows  impetuous  break, 
There  's  a  voice,  at  whose  bidding  their  raging  must 

cease, 
Who  filleth  the  hearts  of  his  chosen  with  peace. 

Affliction  is  lost  in  the  richness  of  faith, 
'Tis  nought  when  the  gleamings  of  mercy  are  bright: 
The  thing  of  a  moment,  'tis  conquered  by  death, 
And  the  free  spirit  bursts  in  the  radiance  of  light, 
For  ever  to  sing,  through  those  regions  so  fair — 
'Twas  redemption  that  bought  me — I  entered  with 
prayer. 

Oh,  let  me  be  near  thee,  my  Savior,  my  all, 
To  bow  at  thy  footstool,  thy  precepts  obey, 
To  walk  in  thy  statutes,  to  follow  thy  call; 
And  oh,  when  the  dim  light  of  life  shall  decay, 
May  my  last  breath  go   forth  with  rejoicing   and 

prayer : 
I  ask  but  this  only ;  thou  blessed  One,  hear. 


RENUNCIATION   OF  THE  WORLD. 


I  renounce  thee,  oh  world!  with  thy  pleasures  so 

bright, 

Mere  phantoms,  the  breath  of  a  moment  may  blight ; 
Bright  visions  may  beam,  yet,  e'en  while  we  gaze, 
Like  dark  clouds  they  vanish  'midst  star-light's  soft 

blaze. 

Ah,  sister,  I'm  weeping  o'er  childhood's  bright  day, 
Like  sweet  summer  flowers,  too  soon  pass'd  away ; 
A  withering  blast  on  my  spirit  has  come, 
And  sorrow  has  made  this  lone  bosom  its  home. 
Then  chide  me  not,  sister,  but  bid  me  farewell, 
For  I  must  away  to  the  convent's  lone  cell ; 
My  heartstrings  are  breaking,  yet  still  a  sweet  tone 
Vibrates  to  the  praise  of  the  Father,  alone. 

Yet  I'll  not  forget  thee — no,  sister,  most  dear, 
In  my  heart's  best  affections  still,  still  shall  thou  share : 
At  sweet  vesper  hour,  shall  my  prayer  nightly  be, 
u  Ye  angels  of  mercy,  her  kind  guardians  be  :" 


-*"      ', 


RENUNCIATION  OF  THK  WORLD.  35 

May  truth,  love,  and  mercy  around  thee  still  beam, 
Nor  dark  cares,  intrusive,  disturb  thy  bright  dream — 
In  life's  peaceful  sun-set  thy  last  breath  be  given, 
Like  sweet  flowers,  to  bloom  yet  more  fragrant  in 
Heaven. 

How  blest  be  our  joys,  when  our  spirits  are  fled, 
Where  the  sigh  is  not  heard,  and  the  tear  is  not  shed  ; 
With  our  harps  sweetly  tuned  to  the  anthems  of  love, 
How  calm  may  we  rest,  in  the  regions  above. 


TO  THE  MANAGERS. 

Yes,  the  heart  hath  a  voice  ;  oh,  that  heaven  breath'd 

word, 

From  the  depths  of  the  soul,  let  its  tones  oft  be  heard ; 
Then  awake,  oh,  my  soul,  touch  my  heart's  sweetest 

string, 
Lest  with  fulness  it  burst,  let  me  sing !  let  me  sing ! 

I  cannot  praise  you,  your  deeds  alone  tell ; 

At  sweet  Sympathy's  call,  your  kind  bosoms  swell , 

Yes,  friends  of  the  blind,  how  oft  has  the  voice, 

In  its  soul-speaking  tones,  bid  each  lone  heart  rejoice. 

With  joy  would  you  open  each  new  source  of  light, 
While  gay  beats  each  rapturous  heart  with  delight  •, 
A  Savior's  command  was  not  given  in  vain — 
"  The  mind's  eye  is  opened,  the  blind  see  again." 

Perchance  you  have  wept  o'er  the  children  of  night ; 
'Twas  ne'er  ours  to  gaze  on  a  beauty  so  bright ; 
But  Mercy's  kind  angel  has  smiled  on  you— then, 
Recorded  in  Heaven,  is  "  sympathy's  gem." 


TO  THE  MANAGERS.  37 

At  morn  and  at  eve,  shall  our  prayers  still  arise  ; 
Accept  the  poor  offering,  thou  Father,  all-wise  ; 
May  hope,  peace,  and  love,  o'er  your  pathway  still 

shine, 
Strewed  with  flowers  celestial,  that  fade   not  with 

time. 

And  when  the  last  tie  of  affection  is  riven, 
May  angels  conduct  you  in  triumph  to  Heaven ; 
Arrayed  in  bright  glory,  the  Savior  shall  stand, 
In  gladness  to  place  you  upon  his  right  hand. 

All  radiant  with  mercy  and  love,  shall  He  say, 
While  seraphs  before  him  their  bright  crowns  display, 
"  The  blind  and  the  orphan  were  heeded  by  thee  ; 
Well  done,  faithful  servant,  abide  thou  with  me." 

With  joy  may  we  greet  you,  in  that  world  so  bright, 
Where  the  sun  gives  no  lustre,  "  the  Lamb  is  our 

light;" 

Pure  seraphs,  with  harps  tuned  to  anthems  divine, 
Shall  come  forth  to  welcome  the  friends  of  the  blind. 


TO  A  FRIEND. 

'Tis  twilight's  soft  hour,  and  the  starry  train 
Have  come  to  revisit  the  earth  again, 
And  the  moon,  celestial  queen  of  the  night, 
Is  shedding  around  her  silvery  light. 

My  heart's  sweetest  numbers  I'm  calling  forth  here, 
To  sing  of  the  friend,  whom  I  cherish  so  dear; 
A  gem  from  my  garland  I've  culled,  pure  and  bright, 
'Tis  Friendship— enraptured,  I  sing  with  delight. 

Ah,  who  would  not  love  thee — so  gentle  and  mild, 
Friend  of  the  orphan,  affection's  own  child  : 
Enshrined  in  my  heart  shall  thy  mem'ry  still  be ; 
Each  night  I  am  breathing  a  soft  pray'r  for  thee. 

May  blessings  the  choicest  be  poured  on  thy  head, 
And  Hope's  softest  radiance  around  thee  be  shed  ; 
May  the  bright  star  of  peace  o'er  thy  pathway  still 

shine, 
And  pleasures  attend  thee,  belov'd  Caroline. 


TO  MISS  E.  ADAMS. 


Softly  awake,  my  slumbering  lyre, 

___.    . 

While  sacred  Friendship  shall  inspire 

The  depth  of  holy  love! 
Oh,  Emily,  sister  !  dearest  one, 
Thy  care  my  grateful  heart  hath  won, 

My  spirit's  joy  shall  prove. 

Oh,  still  may  Hope's  ethereal  beam, 
Amid  life's  desert,  brightly  gleam, 

And  drive  sad  thoughts  away. 
Oh,  ever  may  life's  fleeting  hour 
Be  beautiful,  as  rosy  bower, 

Peaceful  as  sun-set  ray. 

A  tuneful  bird  is  warbling  near, 

Whose  numbers  seem  so  bright  and  clear, 

As  from  the  serial  choir, 
He  seems  in  joyous  tones  to  say, 
Oh,  come  with  me,  from  earth  away ; 

To  purer  joys  aspire. 


40  TO    MISS    £.   ADAMS. 

Oh,  ever  may  life's  current  be 
As  gay  as  bird,  from  sorrows  free  ; 

And  when,  earth's  conflict  o'er, 
Bright  seraphs  bear  thy  soul  above, 
Where  harps,  attuned  to  holy  love, 

Breathe  praise  for  evermore, 

To  Him,  whose  all-creative  might 
Calls  suns,  and  worlds,  and  stars  to  light, 

E'en  rainbow  tints,  so  bright ; 
Then  may  I  see  thy  much  loved  face, 
Whose  features  here  I  might  not  trace, 

No  more  the  child  of  night. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF 

MR.  PETER  A.  SCHERMERHORN, 

A  MANAGER  OF  THE  NEW-YORK  INSTITUTION  FOR  THE  BL 

Hark !  from  the  eternal  throne  of  God, 
Come  holy  voices,  soft  and  sweet; 

Seraphs  and  saints,  on  glory's  wing, 
Go  forth  our  Christian  friend  to  greet. 

Here,  Love's  own  harps  are  out  of  tune, 
Whose  tones  were  wont  so  sweet  to  play ; 

His  smile  had  gladden'd  every  string  ; 
Then  passed,  like  morning  dew,  away. 

A  mother,  in  the  depths  of  wo, 
Weeps  for  her  bosom's  idol  gone  ; 

He  was  her  pride — in  age  her  staff — 
Light  of  her  smile — her  cherish'd  one. 


42          ON  THE  DEATH  OF  P.  A.  SCHERMERHORH. 

His  voice  was  music  to  her  soul, 
Whose  tones  would  pure  affection  wake  : 

Then  let  the  tide  of  grief  burst  forth, 
Lest  her  full  heart  with  sorrow  break. 

One  stood  in  speechless  agony, 

Then  looked  on  death,  so  icy  cold — 

In  virtue's  bloom — in  manhood's  prime — 
There  slept  the  brother  of  his  soul. 

Ye  played  in  childhood's  rosy  hours, 
When  life 's  so  like  a  fairy  dream  ; 

Angels  have  borne  his  spirit  hence, 
But  left  for  thee  Hope's  golden  beam. 


Love  tuned  a  lyre,  whose  trembling  chords 

Made  holy  harmony  complete ; 
But  death  has  sever'd  now  its  strings, 

And  left  the  widow'd  one  to  weep. 

Yet,  softly  o'er  her  bleeding  heart 

Peace  smiles,  while  hopes  immortal  dawn ; 
Oh,  give  her  grace  with  faith  to  say, 

Father,  thy  holy  will  be  done. 

Our  patrons  mourn  their  colleague  lost, 
Whose  heart  was  Mercy's  chosen  seat ; 

We  have  the  fragrance  of  his  deeds, 
Though  in  the  cold,  damp  vault  he  sleeps. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  P.  A.  SCHERMERHORN.          43 

But  when  life's  changeful  dreams  are  o'er, 
Soar  ye  on  Faith's  triumphant  wing  ; 

There  with  the  husband,  father,  friend, 
The  Savior's  praise  for  ever  sing. 


ADDRESS, 


Spoken  in  the  Assembly  Chamber,  Albany,  before  the  Honor 
able  the  Legislature  of  the  State  of  New- York,  March  18th, 
1845. 


When  mingled  love  and  gratitifde, 
Their  fragrance  o'er  the  spirit  fling, 

Oh,  then  the  heart  must  utterance  find, 
Or  fade  the  flow'r — untune  the  string. 

Ye  patriot  band,  our  country's  hope, 
We,  standing  in  your  presence  here, 

Would  grateful  speak  your  generous  deeds — 
Would  offer  all,  our  thanks  sincere. 

At  your  command,  the  desert  mind 
Blooms,  with  celestial  beauty  bright ; 

And  Hope,  awaken'd  in  our  hearts, 
Points  onward  to  a  purer  light. 


ADDRESS.  45 

When  Grsecia  rear'd  her  mighty  domes, 

Her  muse  imrivall'd  still  sung  on ; 
And  science,  art,  and  knowledge,  then, 

Their  empire  o'er  the  mind  had  won ; 

Yet  sorrow  languished  in  her  midst ; 

The  Blind,  unaided,  wept  alone  ; 
The  flow'rs  of  charity  and  love 

Bloom'd  not  beneath  the  Parthenon ! 

But  you  have  touch'd  the  sweetest  string, 
To  earthborn  children  ever  given ; 

Whose  tone,  though  faintly  echo'd  here, 
Will  vibrate  in  the  courts  of  Heav'n. 

We  cannot  look  on  Nature's  face, 

Old  Ocean's  breast,  or  Cataract's  fall, 

Or  view  the  star-gemm'd  arch  above, 
Or  see  the  smile,  more  dear  than  all. 

A  deeper  gloom  our  spirits  knew, 
Lock'd  up  in  hopeless  night  to  mourn  ; 

The  soul,  unfed,  for  knowledge  wept — 
No  ray,  no  light,  to  rest  upon  ! 

But  now,  the  sightless  see  again, 

Illum'd  by  truth's  celestial  ray, 
While  music's  thrilling  note  of  joy 

Life's  every  care  may  chase  away. 
5 


46  ADDRESS. 

We  bless  the  Legislative  baud, 

Who  made  our  life's  young  day  so  bright ; 
Who  bade  the  gems  of  knowledge  shine, 

And  gave  us  intellectual  light. 

Oh,  'tis  a  pleasant  thing  to  dwell 
In  this  dear,  favored  land  of  ours, 

Where  your  enlighten'd  charity 

Hath  strewn  the  blind  girl s  path  with  flowers. 

If  ye  have  wept  for  us  the  while, 
We  cannot  see  the  tear-drop  move ; 

But  He,  whose  voice  is  mercy's  law, 
Hath  registered  that  gem  of  love. 

Our  hearts  with  grateful  feelings  full, 
Have  in  one  voice  our  pow'rs  combin'd; 

For  you  the  earnest  pray'r  is  breath'd, 
Lord,  bless  the  fathers  of  the  Blind. 


NEW-YEAR'S  ADDRESS. 

TO  MR.  S     J.,  INSTRUCTOR  IN  THE    NEW-YORK   INSTITUTION 
FOR  THE  BLIND. 

Serene  and  tranquil,  as  the  dawn 
Of  this  ethereal,  happy  morn, 

Life's  even  current  flow  ; 

x 

While  flowers,  that  boast  a  holier  birth  .  •» 

Than  aught  may  taste  that  breathes  on  earth, 
Their  sweets  around  thee  throw. 

May  truthful  virtues,  ever  bright, 
A  halo  of  unfading  light 

Around  thy  spirit  fling ; 
While  piety's  ennobling  ray, 
Chasing  the  threat'niug  clouds  away, 

Smile  in  perpetual  spring. 

And  when  the  star  of  life  shall  shed 
Its  last  faint  lustre  o'er  thy  head, 

May  Hope's  soft  voice  be  there  : 
Thus,  in  this  offering,  let  me  blend 
The  heart-felt  wishes  of  a  friend — 

A  blest,  a  happy  year. 


TO  THE  REV.  MR.  BRANDEGEE, 

ON  HIS  LEAVING  THE  CHARGE  OF  THE  SUNDAY  SCHOOL  AT 
THE    INSTITUTION. 

Dear  friend,  though  now  the  sad  farewell  we  speak, 
Ne'er  shall  the  bonds  of  holy  sympathy, 
In  which  our  hearts  are  knit,  dissolve ;  ah,  no — 
For  Christian  friendships  formed  on  earth,  though 

dimm'd 
By  parting  tears,  will  stronger  grow  in  heaven. 

We  have  beheld  the  patient  work  of  love, 
Thy  self-denial  for  the  sake  of  Christ ; 
Thy  soul-expressive  prayer,  that  God  within 
His  fold  would  gather  all  the  straying  lambs. 
Think  not  thy  ardent  zeal  we  can  forget — 
No,  never,  while  the  light  of  memory  lasts. 

Then,  Christian  brother,  in  the  strength  of  God, 
Armed  with  the  panoply  of  faith,  go  forth — 
In  that  dear  Church,  watered  by  martyr's  tears, 
And  nourished  by  the  blood  of  saints,  go  work. 


TO  THE  REV.  MR.  BRANDEGEE.  4U 

Oh,  may  the  uuction  of  the  Spirit  cleanse 

Thy  soul  from  every  taint  of  sin ;  and  peace, 

Such  as  the  blessed  only  know,  there  dwell. 

And  when  thou  shalt  grow  sick  at  heart,  and  siu, 

Vaunting,  shall  laugh  thy  groans  to  scorn, 

Oh,  sink  not,  in  that  frightful  hour,  but  turn 

To  those  dear  names,  who  died  to  rear  that  Church, 

In  which  thou  art  a  priest.     Then,  on !  for  Christ, 

And  weary  not,  till  the  hard  fight  be  o'er ; 

Then,  with  the  Church  triumphant,  shalt  thou  blend 

Thy  voice  with  martyrs,  and  the  blest  of  old. 


5* 


HAPPY  THOUGHTS. 

They  charm  my  soul  at  the  daylight's  close, 

When  the  dew-drop  hath  spangled  the  breast  of  the 

rose; 

In  the  forests  dim,  by  the  mountain  stream, 
Far  sweeter  than  music  their  voices  seem; 
In  the  pleasant  haunt,  in  the  greenwood  bowers, 
Around  me  they  scatter  unfading  flowers  ; 
In  the  midnight  watch,  at  the  day's  first  peep, 
Such  thoughts  are  the  first  to  awake  me  from  sleep  ; 
Companions  unfailing,  they  're  faithful  and  true, 
Deception  ne'er  sullied  their  beautiful  hue. 
And  oh,  when  the  bright  dreams  of  pleasure  are  gone, 
And  Hope's  rosy  garlands  lay  wither'd  and  strewn  , 
When  weary  of  sighing,  and  shrouded  in  gloom, 
Heartstricken  thou  seek'st  but  the  rest  of  the  tomb, 
If  thou  hast  remember'd  the  sick  and  the  poor, 
Nor  turn'd  the  sad  orphan,  unfed,  from  thy  door, 
There's  comfort  in  Heaven,  poor  wand'rer,  for  thee, 
The  welcome  of  angels  shall  happy  thoughts  be. 


HAPPY    THOUGHTS.  51 

Thou  wilt  find,  when  the  will  of  our  Father  is  done, 
The  hard  battle  fought,  and  the  victory  won, 
Each  trial,  each  pang,  if  resigned  thou  hast  borne, 
Is  a  glorious  jewel  thy  crown  to  adorn. 


DEDICATED  TO  MISS  RICHARDSON. 


O,  spell  of  the  senses  most  dear, 

Remembrance  of  fond  ones  beloved, 
I  sigh  for  thy  soothing  touch  here, 

Ah,  now  let  thy  magic  be  proved  : 
As  the  weary  would  fly  to  a  refuge  of  rest, 
E'en  thus  I  invoke  thee,  thou  brightest  and  best. 

How  pleasant,  how  blithesome  those  days, 
When  life  seemed  affection's  own  smile, 
My  mother  with  untiring  gaze, 

Watched  over  her  mischievous  child, 
Sweet  memories  are  clustering,  whose  radiance  so 

bright, 
Illumine  my  soul  like  the  star's  mellow  light. 

Kind  fancy,  a  second  birth  gave, 
To  pleasures  I  knew  long  ago, 
And  call'd  from  their  long-buried  grave, 
Those  time-hallowed  feelings  that  flow 
And  sparkle,  like  gems  on  the  ocean's  white  crest, 
To  soothe  me  in  sorrow, — still  near  me  when  blest. 


DEDICATED    TO    MISS    RICHARDSON.  53 

Ye  musings,  to  friendship  so  dear, 

Awhile  o'er  my  spirit  hold  sway, 

The  past  to  mine  eye  brings  a  tear, 

But  the  present  hath  chas'd  it  away ; 
Resigned  to  the  will  of  omniscience  above, 
I  seek  not  to  dazzle,  I  trust  in  his  love. 


FRIENDSHIP. 

Friendship,  a  pure  and  changeless  flower, 

Whose  placid  smile  shall  be 
The  light  of  every  lonely  hour, 

Sister,  I  offer  thee. 

It  will  not  fade,  though  rolling  years 

May  steal  life's  joys  away, 
No,  'tis  most  beautiful  in  tears, 

Then  brighter  beams  it  ray. 

Yes,  when  each  airy  dream  is  o'er, 

By  truant  fancy  wove, 
And  youthful  sports  delight  no  more, 

And  age  a  winter  prove. 

Then  shall  this  flower  a  fragrance  bring, 

To  soothe  the  wounded  part, 
And,  like  the  ivy,  fondly  cling 

More  closely  round  the  heart. 

Then  take  this  pure  and  changeless  flower, 

Whose  placid  smile  shall  be 
The  light  of  every  lonely  hour — 

Sister,  'tis  worthy  thee. 


NEW-YEAR'S  ADDRESS, 

TO    THE    BOARD    OF    MANAGERS    OF    THE    N     Y.  INSTITUTION 
FOR    THE    BLIND. 

Gently  awake,  my  slumbering  lyre, 
Thou  grateful  love  my  soul  inspire, 

To  touch  the  sweetest  string  ; — 
To  thoughts  that  reach  the  human  heart, 
And  bid  the  tide  of  feeling  start, — 

My  spirit  loves  to  sing. 

The  rolling  year  has  passed,  yet  we 
From  death,  and  life's  worst  ills,  are  free, 

Illum'd  by  hope's  sweet  smile, — 
And  others  who  in  darkness  mourn'd, 
Now  rise  to  hail  a  glorious  morn, 

And  bless  your  names  the  while. 

Yes,  friends  and  patrons  ever  dear, 
We  tender  you  our  thanks  sincere, 

And  hope  through  life  to  prove, 
How  much  we  prize  your  watchfulness, 
To  make  each  coming  year  more  blest, 

More  fraught  with  peace  and  love. 


56  NEW  TEAR'S  ADDRESS. 

Oh !  may  religion's  hallow'd  ray, 
Cheer  and  beguile  life's  doubtful  way  ;- 

Your  spirits  tune  to  pray'r ; 
Our  grateful  hearts  these  wishes  bring, 
Accept  the  humble  offering, — 

A  happy,  blithe,  New- Year  ! 


LINES, 


COMPOSED  FOR  AND  RECITED  AT  A  DONATION  PARTY. 


How  swiftly  o'er  the  spirits  steal 

Devotion's  glowing  fire, 
With  bliss  that  only  angels  feel, 

The  humble  breast  inspire. 

Yes,  we  have  come  this  pleasant  eve, 
Our  voice  with  your's  to  blend, 

Then  deign  our  tribute  to  receive, 
And  blessings  each  attend. 

We  would,  beloved  pastor,  thee 

With  warm  affection  greet, 
For  we  have  seen  how  tenderly 

Thou  feed'st  thy  Father's  sheep. 

Thy  little  flock  will  ever  keep 

Their  vigils  at  thy  side, 
They  hear  thy  voice,  and  will  not  sleep, 

For  sluggards,  woes  betide. 
6 


58 


LINES. 

May  He  who  o'er  Judea  trod, 

Be  present  in  each  heart. 
The  holy  Spirit  from  our  God, 

Its  kindling  rays  impart. 

Then  let  thanksgiving's  voice  ascend 

To  his  eternal  throne, 
While  for  our  honor'd,  absent  friend, 

Mingle  our  prayers  as  one. 

He  left  his  cherish'd  home  so  dear, 
Friends  of  his  early  youth, 

To  shed  o'er  minds  benight  and  drear, 
The  light  of  gospel  truth. 

And  he  will  bear  the  Savior's  cross 
Through  blighting  wo  and  care, 

Counting  all  other  things  as  dross, 
If  Christ  be  with  him  there. 

So,  friends  and  pastor,  let  us  hope 

To  meet  in  glory's  light, 
Then  give  the  kindly  feeling  scope, 

Let  mutual  love  unite. 

Now  let  your  hallelujahs  rise, 
God's  presence  is  reveal'd, 

While  angels  bear  to  upper  skies 
The  fruits  this  night  will  yield. 


LINES.  .59 

We'll  meet  our  absent  friend  in  heaven, 

When  transient  life  is  o'er, 
There  strike  the  harps  by  Jesus  given, 

For  we  shall  weep  no  more. 


WRITTEN  IN  A  MOMENT  OF  SADXESS. 


They  passed  me  by  unheeded, 
As  a  poor  and  worthless  one, 

And  my  heart  had  nought  but  sorrow- 
To  feed  itself  upon. 

Oh,  they  were  blithe  and  gladsome, 
In  that  happy  hour  of  glee, 

And  their  hearts  beat  high  with  rapture, 

"jfc.  J 
Yet  not  one  beat  for  me. 

Alas  !  I  seemed  a  stranger 

'Mong  those  I  loved  so  dear, 
Beneath  a  smile  I  only 

Concealed  the  bitter  tear. 


Sweet  spirit  of  my  mother  ! 

When  may  1  come  to  thee  ? 
Each  day  the  lesson  teaches — 

This  world  is  not  for  me. 


t  • 


WRITTEN    IN    SADNESS.  61 

I'm  not  a  thing  of  fashion, 

To  tread  a  thornless  path, 
But  I'll  try  to  be  a  Christian, 

And  do  the  works  of  faith. 

I  bring  an  humble  offering, 

A  broken  heart  alone, 
Oh !  take  it,  God  of  mercy, 

And  seal  it  all  thine  own, 


TO  MY  MOTHER  IN  HEAVEN. 


Oh  !  I  have  heard  sweet  voices  here, 
Voices  that  gave  my  spirits  joy  ; 

Tones  that  had  power  my  heart  to  cheer, 
Should  sorrow  e'er  my  peace  alloy. 

And  though  I  loved  those  tones  to  hear, 

'Twas  not  thy  voice,  my  mother  dear. 

When  sickness  racked  my  feeble  frame, 
Strangers  have  kindly  o'er  me  smiled, 

And  soothing  words  of  comfort  breathed, 
In  tones  that  oft  my  heart  beguiled ; — 

Then  from  thy  bright  and  starry  sphere, 

Oh !  bless  that  deed,  my  mother  dear. 

And  in  my  dreamy  slumbers  oft, 

My  mother,  T  have  heard  thy  voice, 
i 
In  soft  angelic  whispers  breathe, — 

Words  that  have  bade  my  heart  rejoice  : 
"  Fear  not,  my  child,  'tis  thine  to  share 
My  glory  in  the  upper  air." 


- 

TO    MY    MOTHER   IN    HEAVEN.  63 

In  duty's  path  still  I'll  pursue, 

Thy  precepts  ever  I'll  obey. 
And  hope,  when  life's  rude  storms  have  passed, 

To  dwell  with  thee  in  endless  day  ; 
Life's  many  ills  I'll  calmly  bear, 
If  thou  but  smile,  my  mother  dear. 

Yes,  when  earth's  pilgrimage  is  o'er, 
My  soul  may  wing  its  flight  above, 

There  with  the  angel  choir  to  wake 
Anthems  of  never-dying  love  ; 

And,  in  that  bright,  celestial  sphere 

I'll  see  thy  face,  my  mother  dear. 


TO  MY  FLOWERS, 

ON    SEEING    THEM    NIPPED    BY    THE    FROST. 

Oh,  let  me  weep,  ye  gentle  flowers, 
I've  nursed  so  long,  so  tenderly ; 

How  can  I  bear  to  see  ye  droop, 
To  see  ye  languish,  fade,  and  die. 

Oh,  how  I  loved,  at  dewy  eve, 
To  steal  unnotic'd,  and  alone. 

To  tear  away  the  noxious  weeds, 

And  trace  your  blossoms,  one  by  one  ; 

And  as  I  held  sweet  converse  there, 

Sigh'd  for  that  better  land,  whose  flowers 

Fade  not;  where,  with  thecherish'd  here, 
We  meet  in  Love's  ethereal  bowers. 

Will  not  ye,  as  Arabia's  bird, 

From  your  own  dust  in  strength  arise  ? 
Will  ye  not  bloom,  and  soothe  the  heart, 

So  bathed  in  grief,  so  torn  with  sighs  ? 


TO    MY    FLOWKRS. 

I  knew  not  that  its  tendrils  twined 
So  round  these  dear,  unconscious  things, 

That  with  their  fading  lustre,  gushed 

Sorrow  unfeigned,  from  love's  deep  springs. 

As  faithful  will  I  nurse  ye  still, 
As  when,  in  your  exquisite  bloom, 

In  payment  of  my  anxious  care 

Ye  gave  in  turn  your  sweet  perfume. 

Ye  are  not  lost,  for  bright-eyed  hope 
Whispers  in  soothing  accents,  low, 

"  They'll  bloom  again."— I  feel  its  truth, 
Oh  !  speak  my  flowers,  is  it  not  so  ? 

I'm  weary  of  a  heartless  world, 

Sorrow  and  sin,  joined  hand  in  haud 

Have  formed  a  chain,  whose  iron  links 
In  bondage  hold  our  happy  land. 

Hopes  early  crushed,  and  fruitless  sighs 

Luxuriant  grow,  in  evil  soil, 
The  heart  in  agony  still  bleeds  ; 

The  dearest,  brightest  wish  is  foiled. 

Yet,  when  life's  boist'rous  billows  roll, 
Threaten  my  bark  to  swallow  up, 

If  Jesus  smile  amid  the  storm, 
I  cheerful  drain  the  bitter  cup. 


66  TO    MY    FLOWERS. 

There  on  the  Eternal  rock  I  rest, 
His  bosom  shall  ray  refuge  be, 

Though  sightless  now,  by  faith  illuin'd, 
With  mental  eye,  his  face  I  see. 

I  would  not  seek  a  brighter  sphere 
To  bask  me  in  a  prosp'rous  sun, 

Till,  by  affliction  kindly  taught 

To  prize  the  peaceful  rest  when  won. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  INFANT, 

OF    MR.    WILLIAM    BOGGS,    FORMER    SUPERINTENDENT. 

Room,  seraphs,  for  a  child  beloved, 

Our  God  to  you  hath  given  : 
Behold,  how  beautiful  a  flower 

May  deck  the  courts  of  heaven  ! 

Then  welcome  ye  the  lovely  babe, 

Awake  your  choral  lays, 
There,  ever  be  her  infant' lips 

Tuned  to  our  Father's  praise. 

Oh  !  wake  not  thou,  sweet  mother  dear, 

That  note  of  bitter  wo  ; 
Deep  buried  in  the  dust  of  grief, 

Thy  soul  no  peace  may  know. 

Light  of  thy  smile  thy  darling  was, 

A  voice  of  joy  to  thee, 
A  hope  whose  every  throb  was  sweet 

With  love's  own  harmony- 


68  ON    THE    DEATH    OF   AN  IIS'FANT. 

I  know  thy  harp  is  out  of  tune, 

Its  light  hath  passed  away, 
Just  when  began  its  sweetest  strings 

Around  thy  heart  to  play. 

Yet  on  this  hour  so  darkly  sad, 
Dawns  hope's  celestial  smile  : 

He  hath  not  left  you  comfortless 
Who  took  your  lovely  child. 

Thou,  who  didst  weep  o'er  Lazarus'  grave, 

Look  on  her  parents'  woes, 
Oh  !  sooth,  and  bid  their  bleeding  hearts 

On  Thee  alone  repose. 

Then  weep  not  that  so  pure  a  flower 
From  earth's  dark  scene  is  riven, 

'Twas  meet  that  ope  so  beautiful 
Should  smile,  then  pass  to  heaven. 

But  deck  the  fair  young  babe  with  flowers, 

And  lay  her  down  to  rest, 
Calm  as  the  moment  when  she  slept 

Upon  her  mother's  breast. 

Cease,  cease,  those  tears  of  agony, 

Angels  have  won  the  prize, 
They  on  their  golden  pinions  bear 

Her  to  their  native  skies. 


ON  THE  DEATH  OF  AN  INFANT.        69 

Oh,  when  life's  little  day  is  o'er 

You'll  meet  your  child  again, 
There,  join  the  hallelujahs  sweet, 

Of  faith's  immortal  strain. 


LINES. 

ON  RECEIVING  A  CACTUS  FROM  A  FORMER  TEACHER. 

The  flower  you  gave  me,  teacher  dear, 

Made  glad  my  heart  to-day, 
And  bade  a  thousand  secret  strings 

In  tuneful  cadence  play. 

Oft,  as  I  wet  its  rugged  leaves, 

Its  growing  beauties  see, 
1111  not  forget  to  bless  the  name 

Of  her  who  gave  it  me. 

'T  is  love  that  makes  my  youthful  heart 
Cling  round  the  pure  and  bright, — 

That  sheds  through  all  its  hidden  springs 
A  halo  of  delight. 

Good  night,  yet  o'er  thy  peaceful  hours 

May  angels  guard  the  while ; 
And  when  thou  wak'st  with  joy  elate, 

As  faithful  o'er  thee  smile. 


DIALOGUE. 

POET      AND      MUSICIAN. 
POET. 

The  billows  of  ocean  are  dashing  on  high, 

And  dark  forests  wave  and  the  hoarse  winds  sigh ; 

The  thunder  is  pealing  its  terrible  roar, 

And  twilight  is  painting  the  lonely  shore ; 

Such  sounds  are  sweet  to  the  poet's  ear, 

But,  child  of  3Iusic,  what  seek'st  thou  here  ? 
\  >b  r '« '< :*;  v,  'o  Y/<vrtt*  <>S  ( 

MUSICIAN 

From  the  grandeur  of  thunder  I  borrow  the  power 
To  swell  the  loud  organ  in  calm  vesper  hour  ; 
From  the  wail  of  the  night  wind  so  mournfully  low, 
I  catch  the  rich  cadence  of  sorrow's  deejHjpw — 
Mellifluous  harmony  bursts  on  miue  ear  ; 
Then,  poet,  ask  not  why  I'm  lingering  here. 

POET. 

In  the  grandeur  of  nature,  so  awful,  sublime, 
Where  forests  re-echo  the  downfalling  pine  ; 


72  DIALOGUE. 

• 

In  such  sounds  is  there  nought  that  discordantly 

breaks, 

To  destroy  the  rich  fancy  thy  genius  creates  ? 
For  voices  untutor'd  now  burst  on  thine  ear  ; 
Is  there  nought  in  this  wildness  or  harshness  to  fear  ? 

MUSICIAN. 

From  the  bosom  of  nature  all  harmonies  flow, 
And  couldst  thou  her  wondrous  arrangements  once 

know, 

Thou  wouldst  find  her  vibrations  exquisitely  sweet ; 
For  the  waves  of  old  ocean  that  break  at  thy  feet, 
The  gemm'd  arch  above,  and  earth's  dullest  clod, 
All  swell  the  same  chorus — "Our  author  is  God." 
When  Music,  companion  of  angels  divine, 
The  sister  of  Poesy,  left  her  fair  clime, 
A  halo  to  throw  o'er  man's  desolate  way, 
And  light  up  his  soul  in  adversity's  day, 
On  nature  she  looked,  and  her  spirit  rose  high : 
Ah !  here  the  rich  treasures  of  harmony  lie. 
But  say,  sister  spirit,  what  glorious  thought, 
From  the  wings  of  the  wind,  has  thy  genius  caught, 
That  wraps  thee  in  holiest  re  very  now, 
And  shadow-like  gleams  o'er  thy  soul-speaking  brow? 

POET. 

My  soul  is  o'erwhelmed — entranced  with  delight, 
For  visions  of  purity,  lovely  and  bright, 


DIALOGUE.  73 

Around  me  are  smiling  :  alas,  what  am  I  ? 

Poor  worm  !  that  their  radiance  should  dazzle  mine 

eye  ; 

And  nature  magnificent,  beautiful,  rare, 
In  features  unnumber'cl  is  greeting  me  here. 
Oh  !  infinite  wisdom  !  miraculous  skill ! 
Look,  wonder,  my  soul  !  and,  adoring,  be  still. 

MUSICIAN. 

Then,  sister,  our  art  shall  be  blended  in  one  ; 
To  improve  and  ennoble  mankind,  let  us  on  ; 
Regardless  of  trifles,  all  meekly  we'll  try 
To  mingle  our  pow'rs  in  the  songs  of  the  sky — 
From  the  cot  of  the  poor  to  the  stateliest  dome, 
On  the  light  wings  of  fancy  together  we'll  roam; 
Our  strains  shall  be  dear  to  the  happy  and  gay, 
And  the  woes  of  the  widow — the  orphan  allay. 


7* 


ON    THE    DEATH    OF 

REVEREND  DR.  MILNOR. 

Weep  for  the  golden  treasure, 

Just  passed  from  earth  away, — 
The  glories  of  a  holy  life 

Brightened  the  sunset  ray — 
A  lamp  whose  sacred  lustre, 

Beamed  with  celestial  light — 
A  harp  whose  tones  were  sweetest, 

When  breathed  in  sorrow's  night. 

The  fatherless  and  widow 

He  cheered  with  mercy's  ray, 
Attuned  their  hearts  to  gladness, 

And  wiped  their  tears  away  ; 
When  the  frosts  of  age  had  sprinkled 

His  locks  with  hoary  white, 
With  dim  eyes'  fading  lustre, 

Grew  faith's  immortal  sight. 


ON   THE    DEATH    OF    REV.    DR.    MILNOR.  75 

He  is  gathered  to  his  fathers, 

The  crown  he  sought  is  given, — 
Pleading  for  God's  own  people, 

His  spirit  passed  to  heaven. 
His  heart  was  virtue's  temple, 

Where  meek-eyed  charity, 
And  faith,  their  voices  blending, 

Made  holy  harmony.     » 


God,  from  the  throue  of  mercy, 

Bless'd  the  devoted  one, 
Who  joyful  bore  thy  burden, 

And  girt  thy  armor  on. 
Forth  in  the  Lord's  own  vineyard, 

So  meek,  so  quietly, 
He  gave  his  life's  best  energies, 

An  offering  meet  for  thee. 

When  sorrow's  waves  roll'd  darkly 

And  blighted  hope's  sweet  ray, 
And  tares  amid  that  little  flock, 

Had  stole  the  light  away — 
He  drank  the  dregs  so  bitter, 

And  bowed  him  meekly  there, — 
His  heart-strings  torn  aud  bleeding, 

Could  wake  no  note  but  prayer. 


76  ON    THE    DEATH    OF    REV.    DR.    MII.NOR. 

He  wearied  not,  though  fainting 
For  Jesus  whispered  peace, 

The  Holy  Spirit  comforted, 
And  bade  the  tempest  cease. 

There  breathed  a  hallowed  fragrance 
From  thy  pure  deeds  beloved, — 

Affliction  hath  but  beautified 

The  gem  by  God  approved. 

• 

Jesus  so  gently  pillowed 

That  dear  one  on  his  breast, 
And  whispered  peace  immortal — 

Ye  angels  tell  the  rest. 
Father,  thy  law  is  mercy, 

Forget  not  them  we  pray, 
The  flock  who  mourn  their  shepherd, 

Called  to  thyself  away. 

How  burned  their  hearts  within  them, 
As  on  each  holy  day, 

He  spoke  of  peace  and  pardon, 
Through  Jesus,  the  true  way. 

His  spirit  yet  may  mingle 

lu  your  bright  deeds  of  love  : — 

Ye  as  his  jeweled  treasure, 
His  crown  of  joy  may  prove. 


ON    THE    DEATH    OF    REV.    DR.    MILNOR.  77 

Yes,  when  the  Church  triumphant, 

Array 'd  with  Christ  shall  stand, 
God,  with  your  aged  pastor, 

Place  you  at  his  right  hand  ; — 
With  patriarchs,  saints  and  seraphs, 

Join  the  seraphic  theme — 
Blend  the  sweet  harps  of  glory, 

And  swell  the  loud  amen  ! 


TO  MY  FLOWERS. 

There  are  voices  sweet  to  the  human  heart, 
That,  bidding  the  tide  of  feeling  start, 
May  light  up  the  soul  with  a  purer  ray, 
And  drive  the  frownings  of  sorrow  away. 

But  the  softest  voice,  and  the  sweetest  tone, 
Hath  died  on  the  air  like  a  thing  unknown ; 
'Twas  the  angel  voice  of  my  own  dear  flowers 
Hymning  the  stillness  of  the  eve'ning  hours. 

Yet  they  bloom  not  alone  for  our  changing  earth 
The  creatures  of  nature  have  a  purer  birth : 
As  we  breathe  our  love  in  the  softest  tone, 
So  whisper  they  sweet,  to  mine  ear  alone. 

Oh,  come  to  our  star-lit  home,  above, 
Where  the  smile  is  peace  and  the  theme  is  love  ; 
Our  Father  hath  made  them  for  earth  too  fair; 
Then  wonder  ye  not  why  I  love  them  dear. 


TO    MY    FLOWERS.  79 

They  have  charmed  my  heart  with  their  voice  of  love, 
Their  breath  hath  the  garland  of  purity  wove  ; 
As  I  wet  their  leaves  with  the  liquid  draught, 
One  prayer  to  our  Father  from  earth  1  waft. 

May  the  graces  of  friendship  and  love  the  while 
Illumine  my  soul  with  humility's  smile, 
While  hope  in  my  heart  seems  kindly  to  say, 
"  Oh,  come  to  the  Father,  thoulone  one,  away." 

When  I  go  to  my  sleep  in  the  peaceful  toinb, 
Will  ye  bid  them  live  on  in  their  beautiful  bloom  ? 
That  my  spirit  may  join  you  at  ev'ning  prayer, 
And  whisper  ye  soft  of  the  land  more  fair, 
Bathe  in  your  sweets  in  your  sleeping  hours, 
And  bid  ye  away  to  my  home  of  flowers. 


TO  A  FRIEND,  WITH  A  VIOLET. 

Ye  have  carol'd  your  parting  lay,  sweet  birds, 
And  the  ev'ning  glow  hath  come, 

And  my  heart,  like  a  worn  and  weary  thing 
Hath  sigh'd  for  its  starry  home. 

Oh,  they  say  that  the  bowers  are  ever  bright, 
And  unheard  are  the  accents  of  woe, 

That  the  language  is  music  and  love, 
In  the  land  where  my  spirit  would  go. 

Yet  a  voice  whispers  soft  on  the  air, 
These  scenes  thou  wilt  visit  no  more, 

And  my  heart  sadly  echoes  the  tone, 
Our  day-dream  of  gladness  is  o'er. 

Then  take  the  sweet  violet,  beloved, 

By  the  thoughtless,  unheeded,  passed  by ; 

'T  is  prized  by  the  modest  and  pure, 
O  cherish  it  fondly  for  me. 


TO    A    FRIEND,    WITH    A    VIOLET.  81 

So  live,  that  the  radiance  of  hope 
May  be  blended  with  mercy's  sweet  lay. 

And  the  incense  of  charity  pour 
Her  fragrance  o'er  life's  thorny  way. 

When  the  twilight  hath  mantled  the  earth, 
Then  come  to  our  evergreen  bower, 

And  if  spirits  may  visit  the  earth, 
I'll  come  in  this  beautiful  flower. 

O,  I  would  sing  to  the  broken  in  heart 

The  song  of  the  children  of  light, 

. 
Proclaim  the  glad  tidings  of  bliss, 

From  the  land  ever  blooming  and  bright. 

Then  take  the  sweet  violet,  beloved, 
By  the  heartless,  unheeded,  pass'd  by  ; 

'T  is  prized  by  the  modest  and  pure ; 
Oh,  cherish  it  fondly  for  me. 


PENSIVE  THOUGHTS. 


I  seek  not  earth-born  pleasures, 

Their  transient  smiles,  though  bright, 

More  rapid  than  the  meteor's  flash 
Quick  vanish  into  night. 

But,  if  our  Father  pleaseth, 

I'd  ask  a  spirit,  pure, 
A  heart  to  holy  thoughts  subdued, 

In  promised  joys  secure. 

Charmed  with  a  peace  immortal, 
Thy  love  my  theme  shall  be, 

And  seek,  in  singleness  of  heart, 
Alone,  to  worship  thee.  % 

When  tempest  tost  and  weary, 

By  sorrow  frowned  upon, 
Still  may  my  chastened  spirit  say, 

"  Father,  thy  will  be  done." 


PENSIVE    THOUGHTS.  83 

My  heart's  torn  strings  are  breaking, 

Yet  one  sad  tone  will  come, 
All  I  have  loved  are  gone  to  thee  : 

Oh,  may  not  I  come  home  ? 

In  thee  my  hopes  all  treasured, 

Then  frown,  affliction's  night: 
Thy  cross,  my  chosen  refuge, 

Thy  smile,  my  only  light. 

Send  down  thy  Holy  Spirit ; 

This  harp,*  so  late  unstrung, 
Shall  vibrate  then  its  hallo  w'd  chords, 

To  faith's  undying  song. 


TO  A  FRIEND. 

Oh,  weep  not  thus,  my  sister  dear, 
Or  burst  this  heart  with  pain  ; 

I  catmot  bear  these  burning  tears 
Thy  youthful  cheek  should  stain. 

Thou  art  as  fairy-like,  as  when, 
In  our  childhood's  happy  hours, 

We  gathered  pebbles  by  the  brook, 
Or  played  among  the  flowers. 

But  my  heart  is  sick,  for  secret  grief 

Is  rankling  in  its  core  : 
The  star  that  o'er  my  spirit  shone, 

Will  smile  for  me  no  more. 

Then  weep  not,  sister,  though  I  seek 

A  quiet,  peaceful  home, 
In  yon  secluded  convent,  where 

No  thought  of  earth  can  come. 


TO    A    FRIEND.  85 

In  shady  grove,  by  fount  or  bower, 

Comes  on  the  stilly  air, 
A  voice  that  biddeth  sorrow's  child 

Fly  to  the  house  of  prayer. 

That  thought,  upon  my  early  years 

Has  cast  a  holy  spell — 
Oh,  I  must  end  this  weary  life 

In  the  lone  convent  cell ; 

For  here,  unnumbered  snares  are  spread 

To  lure  the  soul  from  heaven  : 
There,  passion  sleeps,  each  warm  desire 

To  penitence  is  given. 

Sister,  our  hearts  have  melted  long 

In  tenderest  sympathy, 
Yet  must  we  part,  for  angels  smile, 

And  bid  me  come  away. 

Go,  on  thy  faithful  Savior's  breast 

Pour  forth  thine  agony  ; 
His  joy  it  is  to  soothe  each  pang, 

And  wipe  thy  tears  away. 

But,  when  in  pensive  thought  thou  walk'st 

Beside  the  murm'ring  rill, 
And  smiles  alone  the  evening  star, 

When  Nature's  voice  is  still ; 
8* 


86  TO    A   FRIEND. 

Oh,  think  of  her  whose  earnest  love 
Was  shared  by  thee  alone  ; 

May  not  her  prayers  at  that  sweet  time 
Be  mingled  with  thine  own  ? 

Affection's  lamp  shall  never  dim, 

I  will  not  love  thee  less, 
And  morn  and  eve,  for  thee  I'll  ask 

Increasing  Holiness. 


MY  MOTHER'S  VOICE. 

Awake,  or  lost  in  slumber, 

So  softly  on  mine  ear 
There  falls  a  voice  of  music, 

'Tis  thine,  my  mother  dear. 

The  same  sweet  voice  that  taught  me 
In  life's  young  morn  to  pray, — 

In  love's  persuasive  language 
Would  charm  my  soul  away. 

She  calls  me  to  the  regions 

Of  fadeless  glory  bright ; 
Soon  may  the  orphan,  mother, 

Her  voice  with  thine  unite. 

Oft,  oft  I  should  have  wander'd 
From  truth's  bright  path  astray, 

Had  not  that  voice  recalled  me 
Back  to  her  pleasing  way. 


88  MY  MOTHER'S  VOICE. 

I've  felt,  when  griefs  distractiug, 
My  sinking  soul  distressed, 

I'd  give  a  thousand  worlds  to  pour 
Them  on  a  mother's  breast. 

Yet  will  I  suffer  gladly, 
For  oh  !  to  me  is  given, 

To  know  thou  smil'st  upon  me,-— 
To  hear  thy  voice  from  heaven. 


.     FAITH. 

Life  is  a  wild,  tempestuous  sea, 
And  thou  who  sail'st  its  waters  dark, 

By  constant  prayer  should  win  the  light 
Of  faith  to  steer  thy  fragile  bark. 

For  winds  adverse  will  ceaseless  blow, 
And  waves  roll  o'er  the  helpless  one, 

Yet  if  in  Christ  thy  refuge  be, 

Thou'lt  know  thy  Father's  will  is  done. 

In  conscious  virtue  may'st  thou  rise, 
For  oh  !  thy  God  is  watching  near  ; 

He  knows  thy  frame,  and  will  not  strike 
One  blow  thou  hast  not  strength  to  bear. 

Think  you  the  Infinite,  the  Wise, 

Would  form  a  glorious  world  for  nought, 

Create  in  his  own  image  man, — 
Endow  with  loftiest  flights  of  thought  I 


90 


Or  would  the  Son  immaculate, 
Leave  the  bright  portals  of  the  sky, 

To  heal,  instruct,  to  be  despised, 
And  meekly  for  our  ransom  die  ? 

Or  hope,  the  fairy  child  of  flowers, 

O'er  earth  her  soothing  fragrance  fling, 
If  love  in  the  omniscient  breast 

Were  not  the  all-pervading  spring  ? 

And  nature's  tuneful  voices  teach 
The  cheering  lesson  to  mankind, 

'Tis  MERCY  prompts,  'tis  LOVE  directs 
The  acts  of  the  Eternal  mind. 

Then  know  thy  Father's  will  is  done, 
When  gathering  ills  above  thee  low'r ; 

Christian,  'tis  but  the  furnace  fire, 
To  try  thy  faith's  victorious  power ! 


LINES  WRITTEN  FOR  AN  ALBUM. 


Beloved,  if  a  heart  sincere 
May  wake  a  single  lay  to  thee, 

Friendship,  the  star  of  honest  truth, 
The  burden  of  my  theme  must  be. 

Not  that  which  would  her  semblance  wear, 
Which  fawning  sycophants  protest, 

Though  'tis  a  jewel — till  the  wand 
Of  faithless  fortune  shade  the  crest. 

Not  such  is  friendship  faithful,  true  ; 

Changeless  as  heaven,  her  smile  of  light, 
None,  none  her  priceless  worth  can  know  ; 

But  see  her  in  affliction's  night ! 

Yes,  see  her  as  she  kindly  brings 
The  words  of  sympathy  and  love, — 

Steals  the  sharp  edge  of  grief  away, 
Then  like  a  watcher  from  above, — 


92  LINKS    WRITTEN    FOR   AN    ALBUM. 

Her  vigil  keeps,  and  gladly  strews 
Bright  flowers,  life's  lonely  way  to  cheer, 

Whose  fragrance,  though  delightful  now, 
Will  sweeter  be  each  coming  year. 

Oh,  dearest !  may'st  thou  never  know 
The  pain  of  false  affection's  sting ; 

But  friendship,  till  life's  latest  hour, 
Her  blossoms  o'er  thy  spirits  fling. 


Who  being  deprived  by  illness  from  attending  church  on 
Christmas,  desired  me  to  bring  her  a  Christmas  green. 


Hark  !  from  the  portals  of  the  skies, 

Celestial  strains  are  heard, 
And  heaven's  eternal  armies  sing 

"  Glory  to  Christ,  the  Lord." 

Say,  Mortals,  shall  your  tongues  be  mute 

On  this  high  festival  ? 
No  :  let  sweet  hallelujahs  rise  ; — 

It  doth  become  you  well. 

Forth  to  the  sacred  courts  of  God, 

So  joyfully  repair  ; 
I'll  keep  the  Christmas  in  my  heart, 

Though  I  may  not  be  there. 

Then  from  the  holy  altar  bring 

One  Christmas-green  to  me, 

A  dear  memento  of  the  church 

I  love  so  tenderly. 
9 


94  TO   MISS    ANNA   SMITH. 

The  glowing  tints  of  health  you  loved 
Passed  from  my  cheeks  away  : 

E'en  hope  seems  veiled  in  starless  night, 
Yet  I'll  not  weep  torday. 

A  low,  still  voice  is  whispering  joy, 

I  join  the  choral  lay  ; 
I  feel,  I  know  the  Savior  smiles, — 

I  cannot  weep  to-day. 

Oh,  then  from  God's  own  altar  bring 
One  Christmas-green  to  me, 

A  dear  memento  from  the  church 
I  love  so  tenderly. 


REST  ON  THE  ROCK. 


I  dreamed — and  my  mother  stood  by  me.  I  was  weeping — 
she  said,  "  Cynthia !  do  not  weep — Rest  on,  the  Rock  !  CHRIST 
13  THE  ROCK  !  Ilest  thou  on  HIM  !" 


'T  is  midnight  now,  in  slumber  lost, 
They  dream  the  passing  hours  away  ; 

I  only  wake,  and  mem'ry's  lamp 

Lights  up  her  pure  and  hallowed  ray, 

That  burned  in  days  of  innocence, 
Made  holy  by  a  mother's  prayer  ; 

Days,  sacred  to  affection's  birth, 
For  oh,  a  mother's  smile  was  there. 

But  she  has  gone,  and  since  that  time, 
How  many  clouds  have  frowned  above 

The  skies,  so  tranquil  and  serene, 
When  guarded  by  maternal  love. 

One  night — oh,  't  was  a  pleasing  dream  ! 

T  looked  upon  my  mother  dear ; 
The  melody  of  that  sweet  voice, 

Fell,  as  of  old,  upon  mine  ear. 


96  REST    ON    THE    ROCK. 

\ 

"  Weep  not  my  child,  though  thou  art  left 
Alone,  life's  thorny  way  to  tread  ! 

Rest  on  the  rock  !  and  Christ  shall  be 
A  pillow  to  thy  sinking  head  ! 

"  Rest  on  the  rock  !  Christ  is  the  rock 

Of  ages !  be  thy  refuge  therej" 
Then  to  the  realms  of  light  she  flew, 

And  left  upon  my  cheek  a  tear. 
"  Rest  on  the  rock," — those  precious  words, 

The  safeguard  of  my  life  shall  be. 
Let  me  not  fall ;  when  lured  to  sin, 

Oh,  aid  me,  Christ,  to  rest  on  thee  ! 


TO  MRS.  W.,  ON  HER  BIRTH-DAY. 

My  much  loved  friend,  we  hail  with  joy 
Thy  birth-day's  bright  and  happy  dawn ; 

We  wish  thee  health,  we  wish  thee  peace 
And  pleasure  on  thy  birth-day  morn. 

May  heaven  its  blessings  on  thee  send, 
And  love's  pure  flume  thy  soul  inspire  ; 

In  friendship's  bright  and  lasting  chain, 
Be  circled  ev'ry  fond  desire. 

Then  when  thy  youth  has  pass'd  away, 
And  lingering  age  comes  creeping  on, 

May  children  bless  their  mother  dear, 
And  strive  her  kindness  to  return. 

Thus  may  thy  days  be  brightly  told, 
A  bless'd  unruffled  tale  of  love  ; 

And  when  thy  spirit  hence  is  caljed, 
Oh  !  mayst  thou  rest  in  peace  above. 
9* 


TO  DOCTOR  CLEMENTS. 

With  joy  one  day  I  touched  my  lyre, 
To  music  tuned  each  gentle  string, 

Anxious  to  find  a  theme  to  please 
The  friend  of  whom  I  loved  to  sing. 

What  goddess  now  shall  I  invoke  ? 

Who  will  thy  guardian  spirit  be  ? 
Peace  silent  stood,  and  Love  was  mute, 

Hope  smiling  said,  "  take  me,  take  me." 

For  I  love  to  see  the  spirits  glad, 

The  wounded  heart,  eas'd  of  its  pain, 

The  cheek  once  dimm'd  by  sorrow's  tears 
Radiant  with  joyous  smiles  again. 

I'll  gild  his  path  in  pleasure's  hue, 
His  heart  from  care  and  sorrow  free, 

These  beauteous  flowers  are  mine  to  strew, 
Therefore  I  say,  "  take  me,  take  me." 


TO   DR.    CLEMENTS.  99 

Hope,  then,  shall  be  thy  guardian  blest, 
Illume  thy  soul  with  her  bright  ray ; 

And  should  dark  cares  invade  thy  breast, 
Shall  gently  chase  those  cares  away. 

When  fade  the  transient  joys  of  earth, 
And  friendship's  every  tie  is  riven, 

The  hope  that  cheered  thy  spirit  here, 
Shall  light  and  guide  thy  soul  to  heaven. 


LINES, 

Written  on  board  the  Knickerbocker,  Capt.  St.  John,  as 
a  token  of  gratitude,  for  the  free  passage  of  herself  and  fellow 
pupils  of  the  New- York  Institution  for  the  Blind,  August, 
1844. 


Awake,  my  muse,  thy  magic  lyre  ; 
Thou,  Gratitude,  my  lay  inspire  ;       "•'  • 
Benevolence  !  of  life  the  spring, 
It  is  thy  praise  I  joy  to  sing. 

We  cannot  view  night's  radiant  queen, 
Or  dewy  lawn,  or  murmuring  stream, 
Or  plant,  or  flower ;  or  fondly  trace 
The  smile  that  decks  the  human  face. 

But  knowledge,  pure  effulgent  beam, 
May  brightly  o'er  our  dark  minds  gleam, 
And  dear  Religion's  hallowed  smile, 
Our  ev'ry  earth-born  wo  beguile. 

Yes,  He  who  from  high  rolling  spheres, 
Delights  to  hear  his  children's  prayers, 
Beholds  thy  deed,  in  kindness  given, 
While  angels  bless  the  boon,  in  heaven. 


LINES.  101 

When  fade  youth's  rosy  tints  away, 

And  life  hath  told  its  little  day, 

Oh,  may  this  deed,  like  Spring's  sweet  flowers, 

Gently  perfume  thy  twilight  hours. 

Farewell !  may  hope's  celestial  ray, 
Gladden  thy  life's  perennial  day  : 
One  flow'ret  we  would  offer  thee, — 
Oh,  may  the  gift  accepted  be  ! 

'T  is  gratitude  !  our  souls  would  prove 
Its  holy  breathings  from  above ; — 
We  all,  as  one,  this  tribute  bring, — 
Accept  the  blind  girl's  offering. 


THE   ORPHAN. 

I  am  an  orphan ; — early  the  buds  of  joy, 

By  death's  resistless  hand  were  nipped  : 

Strangers  with  tenderest  solicitude 

Watched  o'er  my  early  dawn — love  wearied  not, 

Nurtured  affection's  gushing  spring,  and  taught 

My  infant  thoughts  to  breathe  the  simple  prayer, 

To  Him,  the  source  of  untold  excellence. 

Yet,  spirit  of  my  mother  dear  !  I  have 

Sweet  thoughts  of  thee  ;  they  tell  me  of  a  broken 

Heart  that  mourn'd  its  fondest  idol  crushed  ; 

How  meek  thou  bow'dst  beneath  the  chastening  rod, 

And  whispered  "  All  is  well."    When  terror's  king 

On  his  dread  errand  came  to  summon  thee, 

Even  then,  in  view  of  thy  Elysian  home, 

Thy  heart  with  joy  and  gratitude  o'erflowed  ; — 

My  lips  received  thy  last  expiring  kiss , 

Then  to  the  Father  of  the  fatherless 

Thou  freely  didst  resign  thy  little  one, — 

Smiled  on  thy  friends,  and  sweetly  fell  asleep. 


THE    ORPHAN.  103 

More  precious  than  the  far-famed  oracles 

Were  to  their  votaries,  are  my  thoughts  of  thee  ; 

Deep  garner'd  in  my  heart,  and  watered  by 

The  tears  of  filial  love,  they  ever  bloom. 

When  strangers  kindly  proffer'd  me  their  love, 

And  on  me  words  of  fond  endearment  shower'd — 

What  though  my  soul  with  grateful  transport  thrill'd, 

A  void  there  was,  which  naught  but  thee  could  fill ; 

Not  that  I  loved  them  less — the  place,  sacred 

To  thee,  another's  image  might  not  hold. 

And  then  I  thought  how  sweet  thy  voice  would  sound 

Could  I  once  hear  its  gentle  tones  again  ; — 

Oh  !  when  thou  com'st  to  whisper  peace  to  me, 

As  oftentimes  thou  dost,  forget  not  those 

Whose  kindness  thy  lone  orphan  oft  has  bless'd. 


TO  MRS.  HOLSMAN 

Of  Greenwood,  New  Jersey,  after  a  party  of  the  Blind  had 
passed  a  day  at  her  beautiful  residence  on  the  banks  of  the 
Fassaic. 

My  soul  with  rapture  waking, 
Would  touch  its  sweetest  string ; 

To  scenes  so  gay — so  beautiful, 
Its  humble  tribute  bring. 

Thy  eloquence  of  beauty, — 

Thy  landscape,  broad  and  bright, — 

Greenwood !  what  pen  may  paint  thee, 
In  all  thy  heav'n-rob'd  light ! 

Aurora  smil'd  serenely, 

In  a  clear  cerulean  sky, 

I 
When  our  little  party  left  our  home, 

And  said  the  kind  good-bye. 

Wild  flow'rs  bloomed  around  us 

In  nature's  glad  array ; 
And  uncag'd  birds  in  joy  of  life, 

Warbled  from  spray  to  spray. 


TO    MRS.    HOLSMAN.  ]03 

Sing  on,  sing  on — your  merry  notes, 
This  language  seems  to  speak, — 

"You're  -welcome  to  our  sunny  home, 
To  our  beautiful  retreat." 

Through  shady  woods  we  rambled, 

By  sportive  fancy  led, 
And  gathered  birch,  and  sassafras, 

And  wreaths  of  laurel  made. 

On  rustic  seats,  beneath  the  trees, 

At  noon's  meridian  glow, 
We  listen'd  to  the  whisp'ring  breeze — 

The  placid  water's  flow. 

Oh!  I  could  ever  linger  here, 
Mid  fairy  scenes  like  this, — 
Forget  life's  pains,  and  think  the  world 
A  round  of  daily  bliss. 

Sweet  home  of  rural  pleasure, 
Thy  flow'r-decked  vale  and  grove, 

Nature  and  art  have  joined  to  make 
A  paradise  of  love. 

These  scenes  we  shall  remember ; 

But  to  our  hearts,  more  dear, 
Are  the  kind  friends  who  welcom'd  us, 

These  heaven-lent  joys  to 
10 


10G 


•O     M!1S. 


Good  night !  good  night !  ye  lov'd  ones, 

May  angels  guard  your  rest, 
And  when,  like  flow'rs,  ye  waken 


To  life  and  joyousuess, 


Oh,  may  your  days  glide  calmly, 
As  blithesome  be  your  hours, 

As  the  sweet  birds,  who  welcom'd  us 
To  your  sunny  home  of  flowery. 


WRITTEN    FOR 

THE  LADIES'  SEWING-  SOCIETY, 

-* 
Lyons,  Wayne  County, — the  village   in  which   the    Author 

passed  her  early  years. 

Friends  of  my  childhood's  rosy  hours, 
Accept  the  heart's  poor  offering  ; 

I  cannot  still  the  glowing  thoughts, 
That  love  and  gratitude  would  bring. 

Oh,  'tis  a  joy  for  earth  too  bright, 
To  hear  each  dear,  familiar  voice, 

That  soothed  my  mother's  bitter  wo, 
And  bade  her  sightless  child  rejoice. 

Those  orbs  for  ever  veiled  in  night, 

On  ocean's  breast,  or  murmuring  brook, 

On  human  smile,  or  star-gemmed  arch, 
Alas  !  may  never,  never  look. 


103  THE  LADIES'  SEWING  SOCIETY, 

Knowledge  with  Truth's  immortal  ray, 
Hath  made  a  mental  world  for  me  ; 

Religion  wiped  my  tears  away, 
And  Jesus  bade  the  sightless  see. 

For  you,  my  muse  her  lyre  shall  wake, — 
Who  came  at  mercy's  call  sincere, 

To  soothe  the  poor,  to  aid  the  church ; — 
I  joy  to  meet  you  thus,  and  here. 

This  interchange  of  holy  thought, 
In  mutual  love  all  hearts  will  blend  ; 

How  like  a  paradise  this  place, 

Where  each  in  each  may  meet  a  friend. ' 

Then  weary  not,  though  tempests  lower, 
And  sorrow  cast  a  withering  blight ; 

Angels  reward  your  pious  deeds, 
As  morning  rays  disperse  their  light. 

'Tis  but  the  incense  of  the  heart 

That  prompts  this  poor  and  artless  lay  ; 

May  hope  her  sunshine  o'er  you  shower, 
And  flowers  bedeck  life's  thorny  way. 


PS 
1199 

B8?6w 


THE 


